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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633326">You've been by my side since forever</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vendettadays/pseuds/vendettadays'>vendettadays</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:54:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vendettadays/pseuds/vendettadays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Iruka loved his job. Sure, he was underpaid and overworked, but he loved being a teacher. </p><p>He had been so focused on his job that he hadn’t realised that he was practically married to his roommate, in all but name, and had fallen for him along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hatake Kakashi &amp; Umino Iruka, Umino Iruka &amp; Yamato | Tenzou, Umino Iruka/Yamato | Tenzou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fic In A Box</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You've been by my side since forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hkandi/gifts">hkandi</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had an absolute blast writing this and hope I did your prompt justice! I've not written Iruka, Kakashi and Yamato in this context before and hadn't ventured into slash until writing this, so thank you for the prompt and for challenging my (mostly) femslash-writing bones. </p><p>I tried really hard to withhold the angst since it's the one thing I seem to consistently write (or think) about most days, I hope this came out fun and lighthearted as you requested! Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Blinking hard, he refocused on the scribbled numbers, the pluses and minuses and equal signs that only seemed to blur together the more he looked. He ticked the correct answers, crossed the wrong ones and wrote in the right answers next to them. He finished marking Udon’s maths homework with a smiley face and a 'good job!' before turning to the other thirty exercise books by his side. Iruka stretched his arms up into the air, groaning as his joints popped and spine loosened. He shouldn’t have agreed to cover Genma’s maths class. Numbers were so boring. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A mug of hot tea appeared in front of Iruka’s face. Taking the mug in his hands, he smiled gratefully up at Yamato. He sipped the green tea and sighed appreciatively as it hit just the right spot. ‘Thanks, you’re a life-saver.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato shrugged and squeezed Iruka’s shoulders briefly before settling into the empty chair opposite him on the dining table. Iruka could have done with a shoulder massage, but stopped short of asking for one. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You almost done?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I have another stack multiplied by two, then History and I have to go through next week’s lesson plan.’ Iruka leaned back and pouted miserably. ‘I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Just keep saying that and it’ll come true.’ Yamato’s lips curled up in a teasing smirk as he flicked through one of Iruka’s lesson plans. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I do love my job!’ protested Iruka. Teaching was his passion and he wouldn’t change it for the world. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’re overworked and underpaid,’ said Yamato bluntly, putting down the binder of lesson plans and moving onto the stack of exercise books that still needed marking, thumbing through the pages. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Fine, if there were two things Iruka could change, it was his salary and his work-life balance. Both of which were devastatingly low. It was eleven on a Friday night and he was spending it working. He sighed and reached for the thirty exercise books, but Yamato waved his hand away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’ll help you mark this. I can handle basic arithmetic.’ Yamato grabbed a pen and started marking the page. Without looking up, he pointed at the tote bag full of homework sheets on the table. ‘You get started on the history homework.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Guilt weighed on Iruka at the thought of Yamato spending his Friday evening doing his job for him. ‘Hey, you don’t have to help me—‘</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Just accept my help. You’ll be finished quicker, so that I can finally watch the next episode of <em>The World's Most Extraordinary Homes</em>.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka grumbled and griped, but warmth bloomed inside his chest that Yamato was waiting for him, even offering help so they could watch a show together. ‘Alright, fine, just don’t get anything wrong.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been three years since they had started living together in their two bedroom apartment on the south side of Konoha. Technically, it was Yamato’s apartment and Iruka rented a room with use of shared spaces like the bathroom, the open plan kitchen that doubled as the dining and living room. But over time the lines had blurred and the way they lived and shared their spaces became less defined. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Like now with Iruka sat at the dining table with exercise books, different coloured pens, sheets and sheets of paper sprawled across the surface. He spent more time sitting here then he did at the rickety desk in his room. The desk hadn’t been big enough for all the assignments and books he had used when he’d been studying for his post-graduate in teaching, and it certainly wasn’t big enough now. But Yamato had shrugged back then, saying it was fine for Iruka to use the dining room table, after the first time he had seen Iruka studying there. And that was how Iruka spent more time marking at the dining table then actually eating his meals there. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka snuck a glance at Yamato as he ticked and crossed like he was made to be a teacher, though he stopped and frowned more often, unable to decipher the scribbles of Iruka’s teenage students. His attention snapped back down to the history homework he was marking, realising he had been staring blankly at Yamato for too long. He refocused on reading the answer to the question, “Which clans battled at the Valley of the End in 1789?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sooner he finished, the sooner he could finally relax and enjoy the beginning of the weekend. The sooner he could watch a boring show on houses that he could only ever dream of owning. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been a series of fortunate and misfortunate events that led to Iruka living with Yamato. For a broke student, he had been fortunate to find a cheap place to rent before he had started his post-graduate degree. The misfortune had come a few weeks into the course, when his landlord had evicted him from his apartment with only a week’s notice to find a new place.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Desperate and with only half-a-month’s rent, Iruka had scoured everywhere for a cheap room. The notice board at the convenience store, the university’s student union, but every listing had been beyond his budget. He had even gone as far as searching Craigslist. He had been desperate, but not quite so desperate. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the end, it had been Might Gai who had a friend whose friend had a room to rent. Iruka had almost collapsed in relief when Gai had offered a name and number. He had texted straight away and bumbled through his first meeting with Yamato, rambling until he had been surprised into silence by the deep resonance of Yamato’s voice when he’d agreed to rent the room to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The rest as they said was history. </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka watched as Yamato stumbled out of his bedroom. Yamato joined him at the dining table, eyes half-closed, brown hair mussed and in the faded grey t-shirt and sport shorts he wore to bed. He yawned into his hand and looked ready to fall back to sleep. Without prompting, Iruka poured coffee into Yamato's favourite mug, the one with trees decorated around the sides that Iruka had gifted as a gag Christmas present one year. He pushed the mug across, handle first to Yamato who grasped it with both hands and drank greedily.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka smiled and sipped his own tea slowly. Yamato was not a morning person, but he still managed to wrest himself up every morning. No matter how tired he was, Yamato was up at six forty-five, got ready to work and was by the front door by seven-thirty, so that he could drive Iruka to school before heading to work himself. Years of being in the military had given Yamato the internal clock of a soldier.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was no different today or every day of the school term since Iruka’s second week at Konoha High two years ago. Just as it was no different for Iruka to rush back into his room for something he had forgotten. He grabbed the tote bag stuffed full of history homework, slung it over his shoulder along with his backpack, and ran back out to slip his shoes on. Yamato waited patiently, tapping away at his phone. It was a slim fit navy trouser and white shirt day for Yamato and Iruka tried not to stare too long. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You ready?’ Yamato slipped his phone into the pocket of his trouser. He picked up his art portfolio from where it rested against the wall and opened the door, nodding at Iruka to walk first. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The drive to Iruka's school took twenty minutes and if Yamato hadn’t offered to drive, he would be lugging all his marking onto a crowded train. It was a godsend, especially now in July, with Konoha melting into the sticky, humid heat of the summer. The car stopped gently, rousing Iruka from the doze he had fallen into. He blinked and grabbed his bags blindly, missing and grabbing Yamato's hand instead. He let go and found his bag. ‘Thanks, Yamato.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Don't forget your lunch,’ Yamato reached into the back seat and handed one of two bento boxes that Iruka had made the night before, fingers brushing as Iruka took his lunch. Yamato’s face flushed and he shifted in his seat. ‘You need a ride home tonight?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I can take the train. It’s almost the end of the school year, so less marking to take home. Have a good day at work.’ Iruka got out the car, one hand juggling all his bags as he closed the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato waved and drove away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Woah!' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka turned to see Mei, the exchange teacher from Kiri Academy who taught geography, walking through the school gates, eyes wide as she watched Yamato’s car drive away. She whistled long and low. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Morning Iruka,’ Mei greeted politely. She walked in step with him, offering to carry his tote bag and bento box which Iruka gratefully handed over to her unburdened hands. ‘Who was that?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That’s Yamato,’ replied Iruka, opening the front door to the school for Mei. ‘He's my roommate.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh, so he’s the infamous Yamato. He causes quite a buzz in the staff room whenever his name’s mentioned.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They walked to Iruka’s classroom first and he dropped off his things onto his desk before moving on to the staff room. He raised a curious eyebrow at Mei. ‘What do you mean?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Your roommate’s all the talk of the watering hole,’ Mei stepped into the staff room and helped Iruka with putting his bento box into the fridge. ‘I thought it was all just exaggeration, but seeing him this morning….’ Mei trailed off and fanned herself. ‘He is <em>hot</em>.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka frowned and busied himself with starting the coffee machine, something he did every morning being the first to arrive at work. The whirr of the coffee machine filled the quiet room. When had Yamato been the talk of his colleagues? Mei had been with the school since the start of the year, but Iruka had never spoken about Yamato to her. ‘I didn’t know he was such a subject of interest?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I know for a fact that there are several members of the faculty who would jump at the chance to date your roommate.’ Mei smirked, a mischievous twinkle in the green eye not obscured by her fringe. ‘I certainly would be one of them, just saying.’  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mei winked at Iruka, took the mug of tea he had made for himself and twirled out of the staff room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka stared after Mei, a deep furrow between his brow as disconcertion flooded him as her words sunk in. He couldn’t deny that Yamato was handsome. He thought so himself, but… Iruka drifted out of the staff room with a new mug of tea in hand, lost in thought, nodding and saying ‘Good Morning’ to his colleagues as he made his way back to his classroom. With a determined shake of his head and a deep breath to steady himself, Iruka pushed the moment with Mei to the back of his mind and tried to forget about the discomfort that had settled in his chest.</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a bright smile on his face, he slid the classroom door open, ready to face the day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mei’s words lingered in Iruka’s head throughout the day, popping up when he tried to focus on teaching and making an appearance when he packed up to go home. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but for some reason it did.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the time they had known each other, Iruka had never known Yamato to express any interest in anyone. Actually, he wasn’t even sure if Yamato had even gone on a date in the last three years. Iruka took in the sight of Yamato sitting back on the sofa, broad shoulders relaxed and legs crossed as he absently scrolled through his phone. Just his stature alone could stop people in their tracks. His eyes trailed along the chiselled cut of Yamato’s jawline, lingered on his lips and at the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Heat crawled across Iruka’s face, colouring his cheeks and his nose in a pink flush. He turned sharply back to shredding the cabbage to go with the fried pork cutlet he was making for dinner. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What can I do to help?’ Iruka jerked his head up, knife held in mid-chop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato held up his hands, eyes comically wide, mouth widening into a smile. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t offer to help earlier?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Sorry, I was thinking and you caught me by surprise.’ Iruka chuckled and placed the knife on the chopping board. ‘If you can help with the cabbage, I’ll get started on frying the pork. Everything else is ready.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato took Iruka’s place and picked up the knife. Iruka waited for the oil to heat up, glancing at Yamato from the corners of his eyes every now and then as he slowly and carefully sliced the cabbage. A look of complete concentration took over Yamato’s expression and Iruka bit down on his lip to stop the smile. Before Iruka had moved in with him, Yamato had lived on microwaveable dinners from the convenience store. It had horrified Iruka and ever since, he always made a point to cook dinner from fresh ingredients a few times a week. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The sizzle of the cutlets gently frying and the chopping of cabbage filled the quiet space of conversation. His thoughts went back to Mei’s comment from this morning, the discomfort rose and his shoulders tensed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘One of my colleagues were saying that she, and a lot of my other colleagues apparently, would jump at the chance to date you.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That’s flattering,’ said Yamato casually, like the question wasn’t as out of the blue as Iruka had felt. ‘Which of your colleagues said that?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The beautiful exchange teacher with lustrous, long red hair and legs for days, who wore the colour blue like it was made for her, thought Iruka. ‘Mei, the exchange teacher from Kiri,’ Iruka turned off the heat and lifted the pork onto a rack. ‘You passed her this morning when you dropped me off.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato looked up from arranging the shredded cabbage into two bowls, cocking his head to the side as he tried to remember. ‘Red hair and blue dress?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka nodded. Of course, Mei would be memorable. If there was anyone who could knock someone off their feet with just a sultry stare, it would be Mei Terumī. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘For a school teacher, she’s got incredible style,’ Yamato commented as he set the table, putting the bowls of rice and miso soup down. ‘Unlike one teacher I know.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I have style!’ Iruka squawked, mouth dropping open in offence. He put down the plates of fried pork cutlets harder than needed. ‘What’s wrong with what I wear?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">’Nothing.’ Yamato grinned teasingly as he sat down. He gave thanks for his food and picked up his chopsticks. ‘Your white shirt and black trousers is very “trendy teacher”.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka glared at Yamato, unimpressed at his teasing. He dropped into his chair and pointed his chopsticks at Yamato warningly, ‘be quiet and eat your food.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘This is so good,’ groaned Yamato, at the first bite of rice and fried pork. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That doesn’t get you off the hook,’ grumbled Iruka, face flushing the tiniest bit at the appreciative sounds Yamato made as he ate dinner.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato caught Iruka up on his day and he listened, quietly taking it all in because that was how they ended most of their work days. But unwanted thoughts swirled in Iruka’s head, snippets of Mei’s conversation resurfaced along with Yamato’s story of how their summer intern tried to ask someone out on a date. The poor intern had utterly failed when he had called the girl ugly and had got a fist in the face for it. It seemed like light punishment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Would you date her?’ Iruka blurted out, unable to stop the question from materialising. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Sai really needs to-- What?’ Yamato squinted at Iruka in confusion.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Would you date my colleague?' Iruka clarified. <em>Why was he asking this? </em>'The one you saw this morning. Mei.'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato's face only got more confused. Iruka wanted to take the question back; he didn't really want to know if Yamato would want to date Mei, but it was too late to shove the question back into the box. Honestly, who wouldn't want to date Mei?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'I would actually have to <em>meet</em> her first before I could make a decision,’ said Yamato, diplomatic as ever.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh, well…’ This would be the right time to suggest arranging a meeting between Yamato and Mei, but the words lodged like rocks in his throat. ‘If you’re interested--’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘But I’m already too busy with all the drama involved with having one teacher in my life, why would I willingly invite another into it?’ Yamato’s eyes were soft in the way that always did strange things to Iruka’s stomach that he couldn’t explain. The words registered and the sinking feeling in Iruka’s stomach dissipated, replaced by mock outrage. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka’s mouth flapped open and closed. He sputtered out the first thing that came to his head, ‘then you shouldn’t have agreed to renting a room to me.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato laughed loudly with mirth. ‘As if I could have said “no”. You looked like you were ready to pass out and cry at the same time when you arrived at the door. Even if I did, I would never hear the end of it from Gai.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The corners of Iruka’s lip twitched until he gave in to the wide smile that formed at the thought of Gai hunting down Yamato. It was something that Gai would definitely do. He shook his head and ate his food with renewed enthusiasm, suddenly hungry now the inexplicable insecurity he had felt all day was soothed by Yamato’s words. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Hey, Iruka!’  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka looked up from the book he was reading to see Gai's head appear at the door of his classroom, signature sparkling smile on his face. He marked the page and waved for Gai to come in. 'Not running drills during lunch?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Lee is running the drills this week,' said Gai, referring to his nephew, a student at the university on work experience with the school. Gai pulled up a chair and sat by Iruka's desk. 'I wanted to ask if you could help as a chaperone for the end of year dance for the seniors?'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Is it that time already?' Iruka checked the calendar on his desk. It was only three weeks before the summer dance, the annual end of year party the student council organised to farewell the seniors. 'God, time has flown by. It feels like only yesterday that we started term.’' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Ah, the springtime of youth never truly fades away! It's just another chapter in our lives!' exclaimed Gai exuberantly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka shook his head, used to Gai's over-dramatics from their time in grad school. 'Sure, I'll help chaperone the dance.'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His phone vibrated on the desk, screen lighting up with a new text from Yamato. He smiled as he opened the text.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>You want to get Ichiraku's tonight?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Sure. Meet you at 7?</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Isn't 7 when teacher's go to bed? Can leave earlier today. 6? </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka snorted at the message, thumbs moving quickly as he typed a reply. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Says the guy who falls asleep on the sofa at 5pm on a weekend. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p6"> </p><p class="p5">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Yeah, meet you outside at 6. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He put his phone face down and turned back to Gai, his smile dropping as he realised how rude he must have seemed to Gai for ignoring him. But instead of annoyance, Iruka came face-to-face with another of Gai's blindingly bright grins. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Who was that?' asked Gai slyly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Yamato.' Iruka watched in confusion at the way Gai's eyebrows wiggled like hairy caterpillars. Whenever he mentioned Yamato to Gai, it always seemed to excite Gai and started endless questions of ‘how are you and Yamato doing?’ and ‘is everything okay with you and Yamato?’. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He never understood Gai’s investment in them and had just clocked it down to Gai being Gai. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Hey, why don't you invite Yamato to the summer dance?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka cringed at the suggestion. 'Why would I do that? He and I would have to be students first. Do we look like teenagers?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'You haven't heard?' Gai leaned his elbow on the desk. 'The student council have invited teachers to join and with a plus one if they wanted to.' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Isn't it a little unprofessional for the teachers to join a school dance?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Apparently, it was a majority vote by the seniors in favour of opening the invitation to the teachers.' Gai shrugged his large shoulders and held his hand palms up. ‘The seniors last ditch effort to pry into their teachers’ private lives.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'I doubt Yamato would want to spend his evening standing guard by the punch bowl,' joked Iruka. Yamato spending an evening at a high school dance with a hall full of teenagers? That was unlikely. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p7">
  <span class="s1">'You never know unless you ask.' Gai shrugged again, but smiled widely. ‘I know a lot of our colleagues are dying to meet him and it will be nice to catch up with him. Been a while since I last saw Yamato.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I can ask, but you’ll be disappointed.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The idea of introducing Yamato to the rest of his colleagues sat uncomfortably with Iruka for some reason. Since finding out from Mei about what a celebrity he was with the teaching staff, he had learnt that not only was Yamato the hot topic of the staff room, but they had running bets on whether Iruka would ever invite him to the teachers socials. So far the bets were that Yamato would not attend the next school event, which was oddly in Principal Tsunade’s favour. Iruka huffed a laugh. It looked like Tsuande would actually win for once. Iruka knew Yamato, and he would definitely not go to the summer dance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka snapped his chopsticks apart and dug into his shoyu ramen happily, savouring the umami flavour with every bite of noodles and sip of soup. After his fifth bite, he slowed down having calmed his initial need to inhale his noodles. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned to Yamato who stared at him, chopsticks halfway to his open mouth, noodles slipping off the chopsticks and splashing back into the soup. A light pink blush dusted Yamato’s cheeks. Yamato loosened the tie he wore today for work with a cough and Iruka remembered that the weather had forecasted today as one of the hottest days this summer. No wonder Yamato was looking flushed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Sorry, I’m eating like a slob,’ said Iruka sheepishly. He looked around for the napkins which were on Yamato’s far side. He leaned in close to Yamato to grab one, only for Yamato to hand one to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka took the offered napkin with a grin and dabbed his mouth. 'I hadn't realised how much I craved ramen until that first bite.' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'I was thinking about ramen all day,' admitted Yamato as he finally ate. Iruka turned his focus away from Yamato's lips, finding them distracting suddenly and sipped his green tea. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka finished first and second helping of noodles all before Yamatohad even finished his own. As he waited, he looked around the tiny shop with a bar table that could only sit six customers at one time, and remembered introducing Yamato to the wonders of Ichiraku when they’d first started living together. That had been a fun night, Yamato hadn't been particularly chatty back then, and somehow Iruka had managed to get a laugh from out of him with a bad joke. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'What are you laughing at?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Just thinking about a bad joke.’ Iruka hadn't realised he had laughed out loud. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato glared at him in a silent plea to spare him. ‘Please don’t.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You know you love them,’ teased Iruka, nudging Yamato with his elbow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘No, I really don’t.’ Yamato paid the bill for them both and waved to Teuchi and Ayame as he got up to leave, ignoring Iruka who almost fell off his stool to follow him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Wait up!’ Iruka raced after Yamato, whose long legs had already carried him halfway down the street from Ichiraku’s. He caught up and slung his arm over Yamato’s shoulder, breathless from running with his heavy tote bag. ‘Come on, they’re not that bad!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m ignoring you.’ Yamato crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Isn’t that Iruka-sensei?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka turned at the sound of his name and his face lit up when he saw the familiar faces of three of his old students. ‘Naruto! Sakura! Sasuke! How have you all been?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘We’re doing great! We’re on our way to Ichiraku’s.’ Naruto grinned widely, his spiky yellow was shorter than when Iruka had seen at their graduation last year. ‘University’s great, but the ramen in the Land of Toad doesn’t hold a candle against Teuchi’s.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka leaned into Yamato unconsciously and smiled as he took in each of his old students, a little older and a little different, but still looking every bit like the troublemakers that had caused him both joy and pain in his first two years of teaching. They had gone through so much in high school, but seeing them like this, smiling and doing okay filled Iruka’s heart that he had done something right. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Who’s your friend?’ Naruto’s question resulted in a punch to his head from Sakura, her forehead and eyebrows scrunched in annoyance, accompanied by an exasperated eye roll from Sasuke, who wore a bored expression on his face as if he would rather be anywhere other than here. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘This is Yamato,’ answered Iruka without a beat, ignoring the silent communication that passed between the three of them. He hadn’t been able to tune in when they were his students, he was never going to now. ‘He’s my friend.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Naruto’s eyes widened and his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Okay! Iruka-sensei, it was good seeing you again!’ Sakura slapped a hand over Naruto’s mouth and dragged him past Iruka and Yamato. ‘Say bye, Naruto.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sasuke walked past and nodded at both of them, hands deep in his pockets as he followed after Sakura and Naruto in a leisurely slouch. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That was the three troublemakers?’ asked Yamato as he watched them walk away curiously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka rubbed his cheek and laughed awkwardly. ‘Yeah, that’s them.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato smiled at him and put his hand on Iruka’s back to push him along in the direction of home. ‘I can see why you started getting grey hairs early.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Much to Iruka’s surprise, it turned out that nearly every one of his colleagues had agreed to go to the summer dance. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Why wouldn’t I go? Kurenai and I get to relive our high school dance for the night,’ said Asuma as he exhaled smoke into the air during a cigarette break on the school roof. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mei had dropped by his classroom with a ‘do you think I’ll meet my future spouse at the summer dance?’ To which Iruka had replied by spraying tea all over his desk. ‘There’s plenty of single teachers who would go to the dance, right?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’re right Iruka, I can’t let the chance pass me by.’ Mei had said thanks and bye, and had left Iruka to cough up a lung before he even had a chance to actually say a word. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even the scarily imposing Ibiki Morino, the proctor who oversaw all the exams in Konoha High had said he would go. ‘There’s dancing and music, Iruka. Dancing and music.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Of course, I am going Umino!’ Principal Tsunade had yelled in Iruka’s face and had slammed her palm on her desk to emphasise her point. ‘I will be present in my moment of victory! How will I get my winnings if I’m not present!’ He had scuttled out of the Principal’s office with his signed stacks of papers in his arms as quickly as possible.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka threw himself onto the sofa and groaned as he leaned his head against the cushions. His colleagues were tiring. They were all oddly excited to go to a student organised dance whereas the idea only made Iruka anxious. It had the weird effect of transporting him back to the lead up to his own end of year high school dance and how he had pinballed between going with friends or asking out his crush at the time. He had ended up going with his friends, but a part of him had always wondered if Mizuki would have gone with him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What happened?’ Yamato’s voice floated through the open door of his room. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘My colleagues are ridiculous,’ said Iruka loudly enough for Yamato to hear. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What did you say?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka got to his feet, even though all he wanted was to lie down and not move. He walked into Yamato’s room and sat down on his bed. ‘I said my colleagues are ridiculous.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato spun on his stool to face him, turning his back to the massive drafting table with an equally massive design of a building he was working on. A folded, grey bandana was tied around Yamato’s forehead, a signal that he was working seriously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Sorry, didn’t realise you were working,’ Iruka got up to leave, not wanting to disturb Yamato when he was in his ‘I’m architecting zone’. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘No, it’s okay. I’ve been working for hours and can do with a break.’ Yamato winced as he moved his head from side to side. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka sat back down on the bed at Yamato’s invitation. He looked around Yamato’s room, the white painted walls, grey bedspread, and minimalist furniture was a complete contrast to his own room, which was cluttered and colourful and where not one of two things ever matched. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What did your colleagues do this time?’ asked Yamato, picking up the thread of conversation and startling Iruka from his thoughts.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh, it’s something silly,’ Iruka rubbed the back of his neck, realising that he would have to tell Yamato about the school dance. Yamato, ever patient, waited for him to continue. ‘The seniors have decided to invite teachers to their end of year dance.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘And you don’t want to go?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m going ‘cause I agreed with Gai to chaperone.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I don’t get it,’ asked Yamato, confused. ‘Why is that silly?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka stared up at the ceiling, trying to translate his incoherent thoughts into a coherent sentence. ‘So the school dance is normally for students, but for some reason, the seniors this year are inviting the teachers and a plus one.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Iruka.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yamato,’ mirrored Iruka, suspicious of Yamato’s sudden playful behaviour. Yamato only ever said his name like that when he was up to something. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato’s face broke out in a huge grin. ‘Are you asking me to prom?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘No! That’s not what I meant.’ The grin on Yamato’s face didn’t let up. ‘I was giving you context. Every single one of my colleagues are going to the school dance, even though it’s meant to be for the students. That’s why my colleagues are ridiculous!’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka breathed hard and tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, feeling intensely warm, despite the rotating desk fan that Yamato had on.  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Okay, context noted.’ Yamato crossed his legs and ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it even more than it already was. ‘So back to the question: are you asking me to prom?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka groaned and pitched sideways onto the bed. The smell of clean soap and the subtle scent of Yamato’s cologne filled Iruka’s senses and he wanted to burrow further into the duvet at the comfort it brought him, only to shoot straight back up into a sitting position when he realised what he was doing. ‘I’m sure you have better things to do on a Friday evening.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Well, I missed my own senior prom, so I can at least live vicariously through your students.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You missed your senior prom? What happened?’ asked Iruka with interest. He wondered what Yamato was like in high school. Knowing him as Iruka did now, he doubted Yamato was much different. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I was rushing to finish my art portfolio before the deadline, which meant staying up for three days and nights.’ Yamato chuckled as he recalled the story. ‘I can’t really remember much from those few days. I did finish the portfolio and handed it in on time, but ended up getting ill with a fever and had to miss senior prom.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Aw, that must have sucked.’ As much as Iruka’s own high school dance had caused him anxiety, he was glad he had gone. It was one of the best memories of high school, but it also meant he couldn’t drink a certain brand of cider without wanting to throw up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘To be honest, I was too tired and ill to care, but Yūgao Uzuki, my prom date, was pissed that she ended up going alone.’ Yamato smiled and shrugged, obviously not heartbroken over it. ‘It was for the best anyway, she had a great time without me, met a guy who was someone else’s date, and is now happily married to him.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh, well, I guess everyone ended up happy,’ said Iruka, though his mind felt stuck at the mention of Yamato’s date. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘So are you asking me to prom, Iruka?’ repeated Yamato, that damn smile still hadn’t faded. ‘I will definitely go if you asked.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka got up with a huff and stalked out of Yamato’s room. ‘I’m leaving now.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Can I have yellow acacia for my corsage?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka ignored Yamato’s shout from behind him, but filed away the weirdly specific flower choice if, and only <em>if</em> he decided to take Yamato to fake prom. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Hey Yamato, I got gyōza for dinner!’ Iruka slammed the door closed with his foot, hands full with the bags of groceries to stock up the fridge. The fridge was always empty. If it weren’t for Iruka going food shopping, he doubted Yamato would ever eat freshly prepared foods. He kicked off his shoes at the entryway and walked into the apartment only to stop at the sight of someone, who was most definitely not his roommate, stretched on the sofa and reading a book. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Socked feet were kicked up on the arm of the grey, fabric sofa that he and Yamato had picked together. Iruka’s eyes followed the long legs in tight, black jeans to the torso in a white t-shirt until he reached the bright orange cover of <em>Icha Icha Paradise. </em>From over the top of his book, the stranger stared blankly at Iruka with his one uncovered eye, the other hidden by a black eyepatch. ‘Yo,’ he said with a lazy flick of his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka gaped at the stranger with the gravity-defying silver hair for a second longer than needed before his mind kicked started into gear. ‘Who are you—’ The grocery bags ripped, spilling fresh produce, the boxes of gyōza and bags of walnuts, and Yamato’s favourite beer onto the floor. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dropped to his knees and picked up the fallen groceries, bundling them into his arms. The stranger got up from the sofa and bent down to help him. The last box of gyōza appeared in front of Iruka's face, held out by the stranger, but all he could do was stare, frozen by the stranger's dark, almost black coloured eye and for a moment Iruka struggled to breathe. The heat of a blush crawled up from Iruka’s neck to his face the longer he stared. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Well, aren’t you cute?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka shot up from the floor, arms full of groceries and said, ‘Who are you? How did you get in?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Kakashi Hatake,’ replied the stranger, voice muffled by the black mask he wore. Standing up, Kakashi took the beer and boxes of gyōza from Iruka and put them away into the fride. ‘I was invited by Yamato.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka stood rooted to the floor as the vegetables and fruit were put away by Kakashi, as if he lived in the apartment and not Iruka. When Kakashi finished, he stood in front of Iruka and leaned in close until they were almost nose-to-nose. ‘Kind eyes, scar across the bridge of your nose, spiky ponytail and blushes easily. You must be Iruka?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘How do you know my name?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kakashi raised his eyebrow before Iruka realised what he had said. Right, of course, Yamato. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Stop flirting with Iruka.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oops, busted.’ Kakashi winked at Iruka before turning his attention to Yamato, though he didn’t step away. ‘Yamato, I was just saying hi--’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato shoved a book into Kakashi’s hands and spun him around by the shoulders. Iruka scurried to the sofa, sat down so he was safely out the way. Yamato pushed Kakashi towards the front door, adding in a low voice, but not low enough that Iruka couldn’t hear. ‘He's not into you Kakashi, so stop with the flirting.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You sure about that Tenzo?’ Kakashi raised an eyebrow at Yamato, before he turned to Iruka and winked. Iruka's face flushed hot and he turned back to the TV pointedly. If Kakashi had not been wearing a mask, he would have sworn there was a smirk beneath the black cloth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Goodbye Kakashi,’ said Yamato, slamming the door shut. The sudden silence sounded loud, the air tense and stifled, only disturbed by Yamato’s socked feet against the carpet and the gentle murmur of the TV show Iruka wasn’t really watching. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The space next to Iruka dipped, jostling him as Yamato got comfortable. From the corner of his eyes, he dared a glance at Yamato who was sitting on the far side of the couch, leaning against the arm and staring at the TV with careful indifference. Iruka smiled to himself and turned to face his roommate, recognising his sullen mood for embarrassment. ‘So, Tenzo?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato glared at him with a deep furrow between his brows. But the expression fell away, Yamato’s eyes softened as Iruka waited, face open and patient for the words that would follow. He scoffed, but shifted so that he faced Iruka, arm resting over the back of the sofa. ‘It was my code name when we were in ANBU together. Kakashi really shouldn’t use that name anymore.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka’s eyes widened at the admission. Yamato rarely spoke about his time in the Black Ops unit of the Konoha Special Forces.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘He was my commanding officer.’ Yamato shrugged, hand rubbing at his right side unconsciously. ‘Our last mission together didn’t go well, but we kept in touch after we were discharged and became friends.’ He trailed off as his gaze dropped to his lap. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It seemed that was the extent Yamato was willing to share about his time in the military. Iruka shuffled over closer, bumping his shoulder against Yamato. When Yamato looked up, Iruka gave him the cheesiest grin, twisting his features into funny faces all in an attempt to bring that single huff of laughter out of Yamato. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The corner of Yamato’s lips twitched and Iruka saw the tell-tale bob of his throat as he tried to restrain himself. Teaching was Iruka’s passion, but so was lifting Yamato from the moroseness that sometimes overtook him and Iruka had a whole bag of tried and tested tricks. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Laughter burst from Yamato at Iruka’s imitation of a dolphin. It wasn’t his best, but it had done the job. Iruka smiled at the sound, growing wider at the arm Yamato slung over his shoulder, bringing their bodies a little closer. ‘Thanks for telling me. I know it’s hard to talk about that part of your life.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato shrugged again, but squeezed Iruka’s shoulder in silent appreciation and the gesture warmed his chest. It had always made Iruka wonder why Yamato had advertised for a room to rent back then, being so intensely private as he was. It was something he had learned early on when they first became roommates. But he also learned to recognise the gestures, the small actions that made up Yamato; he had waited patiently for the crack in the door to open wider as their acquaintance slowly grew into friendship. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Kakashi’s just come back from a three-year job assignment in the Land of Wind and dropped by to say “hi”.’ Yamato cleared his throat. ‘Sorry if he made you uncomfortable.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘N-no, no, he didn’t make me uncomfortable,’ Iruka stammered. The blush returned full-blast like a heat from the open door of a hot furnace. Yamato lifted his arm off Iruka’s shoulder, turning to grab the TV remote, and Iruka found that he missed Yamato’s comforting weight against him. ‘Is Kakashi always like that?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘If by incorrigible flirt, then yes, he is always like that.’ Yamato shook his head and flicked through the channels before clicking onto Netflix. ‘He doesn’t look like it, but Kakashi’s an editor at Leaf &amp; Fire Books.’ Yamato rolled his eyes before adding, ‘he reads erotica for a living and as a result will flirt with anyone that so much as glances his way.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh, well that makes sense.’ Iruka watched Yamato scroll past show after show, not really seeing the moving pictures. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What do you mean?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka balked, startled by the question and at the gentle quirk of Yamato’s left brow, his almond shaped eyes narrowing in concern. And yet, as much as Iruka could see the concern in Yamato’s expression, it was as undecipherable as it was familiar. An expression that he kept seeing whenever he looked up to catch Yamato watching, only for his eyes to flick away quickly. The more Iruka saw it, the more mysterious it got. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Nothing,’ mumbled Iruka. Not quite ready to give voice to his vulnerabilities. He shouldn’t have been so disappointed to hear that Kakashi flirted with just about everyone.</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t like he was the kind of person that people flirted with anyway.  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Drinks and snacks at Akimichi. 7:00. See you there. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka frowned at the message. It had been sent during lunch, but Iruka had been too busy and had only seen it now at the end of the school day. It was unusual for Yamato to finish work so early on a Wednesday. He normally worked until nine. Regardless, Iruka looked forward to going to Akimichi. It was his and Yamato’s favourite <em>izakaya</em>. Just the mention of Akimichi and Iruka wanted beef skewers and fried chicken. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At six on the dot, Iruka arrived outside Akimichi to find Kakashi’s tall figure waiting by the wooden, sliding doors. ‘Yo!’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Kakashi,’ greeted Iruka in return. He looked around for Yamato, hoping he had arrived to act as a human buffer. Iruka hadn’t quite got over the embarrassment and nervous reaction that had overcome him when he had first met Kakashi a few days ago. ‘Yamato’s not arrived?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘He’s not coming.’ Kakashi opened the door and walked in. ‘I didn’t invite him.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What do you mean you didn’t invite him? He was the one that texted me.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kakashi chuckled and sat at the bar, ordering two beers and a selection of snacks as a waiter passed by, all before Iruka could sit down himself. ‘I stole his phone during lunch, sent you the text, then deleted it.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Why would you do that?’ asked Iruka. This was going to be a disaster of a night. He could already feel it as nervousness settled over him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Can’t I have drinks with my junior’s roommate and best friend?’ replied Kakashi innocently. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yeah, I don’t believe you for a minute.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Smart move,’ said Kakashi as he removed his black mask and pocketed it. He passed a beer to Iruka before taking a long drink from his own bottle. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without the mask on, Kakashi looked younger and Iruka saw the line of a scar peeking from the bottom of his eyepatch. Iruka tried not to stare at Kakashi’s bare face, but he was weak for a beautiful face. He couldn’t help comparing Kakashi to Yamato and found he preferred Yamato’s strong jawline over the Kakshi’s sharp chin. He snapped his haw shut, but Kakashi had already caught him, a sly grin on his face.</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka cleared his throat and asked, ‘So why am I here?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Well, Yamato was too busy to go drinking with me. It was either between you and Gai, and…’ Kakashi trailed off and smiled again, as if that answered Iruka’s question.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m going to tell Gai you said that.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kakashi shrugged like it didn’t bother him at all if Iruka told Gai, he finished his beer and ordered another. ‘So tell me about yourself?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka drank his beer to give himself some time to think. He couldn’t think of the last time he had gone out with someone other than Yamato or his colleagues. ‘Um, I’m a teacher at Konoha High.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kakashi stared at Iruka, bored and underwhelmed. ‘Wow, you are such a conversationalist. How do you even make it past the first date?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That has no correlation at all!’ Though Iruka didn’t dare mention that he couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a date. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’ll find that it actually does.’ Kakashi smirked as he popped a piece of fried chicken into his mouth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka downed the rest of his beer and waved for another, irritated at Kakashi and his smug face. Iruka had only known him for a few hours and he was already tired with annoyance. How had Yamato dealt with this guy for so long? No wonder Yamato had never mentioned him until now. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Fine, fine, don’t get your panties in a twist,’ said Kakashi in a placating tone that only infuriated Iruka more. He held out his bottle. ‘I just want to get to know the guy Yamato’s lived with for three years. How about we get to know each other by playing two truths and a lie?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn’t sound like a terrible idea, so Iruka clinked his beer against Kakashi’s in agreement. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two truths and a lie with Kakashi had turned out to be one of the worst things Iruka had ever agreed to. The other worst things he had accidentally revealed to Kakashi, who ended up spraying Iruka with beer as he laughed. When the room started swimming two hours later, Iruka regretted the sixth beer he had ordered and decided it was time to head home. It was a school night and he needed to sober up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m going to go.’ Iruka got up and took his wallet out, only for Kakashi to slap his hand away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You get it next time.’ Kakashi paid the bill and they left the <em>izakaya</em>, both a little unsteady on their feet. ‘Let me walk you home.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Thanks, but I can get home myself.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yes, you can, but indulge me.’ There was a conniving glint to Kakashi’s right eye that Iruka didn’t trust, but he doubted he could stop Kakashi once he had decided on something. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Fine, but you can explain to Yamato why his 67,000 yen bonsai tree died four years ago.’ Iruka cackled at Kakashi’s shocked look. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I can see why Yamato likes you.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka scoffed. ‘Of course, he likes me. We’ve lived together for almost three years.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Exactly, you’re still living together after nearly three years.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Don’t say anything,’ muttered Iruka as he got into Yamato’s car the next day. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I didn’t say a thing.’ Yamato bit his lip, holding in the smile and laugh that Iruka knew he was dying to let out. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka sank into the seat and tried to empty his mind, but the throbbing thump of his headache made itself known. Kakashi had walked him home, dumped him into Yamato’s arms and had left with a wave. ‘It’s your fault.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘How is drinking with Kakashi my fault?’ asked Yamato as they merged into traffic. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘He’s your friend,’ grumbled Iruka, resting his head against the window. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Seems like he’s your friend now too. You wouldn’t stop talking about him last night when you got back.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka closed his eyes. He remembered how he had waxed poetic to Yamato about Kakashi’s bare face for longer than was appropriate. Not his finest moment. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘It looked like you enjoyed your date with Kakashi.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It took a minute longer than usual for the word to sink in, but when it did, Iruka turned his head so quickly that he felt his brain rattle inside his skull. He clutched his head and moaned in pain. ‘It wasn’t a date.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Whatever you say,’ replied Yamato with a shrug and small smile, but something about Yamato’s tone didn’t sit well with Iruka.  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka’s bleary eyes blinked open, suddenly awake when he had been sleeping moments before. He turned to check the time and huffed. It was just past two in the morning and something had thrown him into consciousness. Iruka got up with a sigh. He walked into the living room without bothering to switch on the light. When he heard scratching coming from the entryway of the apartment, Iruka froze and quietly went back into his room for the baseball bat Gai had got him one birthday. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the bat held in his hand, Iruka crept from the living room and into the short hallway that led to the front door. In the darkness, he made out a figure toeing off shoes, a hand resting on the closed door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Jeez Yamato, you scared the hell out of me,’ said Iruka, dropping the bat and releasing a breath in relief as he recognised Yamato’s familiar back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato spun around and tripped over his own feet.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Woah, easy there soldier!’ Iruka dashed forward, catching Yamato in his arms before he could knock himself out on the wooden floor of their hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Why is everything spinning?’  Yamato's lips moved against Iruka’s neck as he spoke.  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘O-okay, looks like you’ve drank a little more than usual.’ The bare skin on Iruka’s neck seemed to burn as Yamato continued to mumble incoherently, burrowing his face into the crook of Iruka’s shoulder. Iruka shuffled backwards, half-dragging, half-carrying Yamato so that he could dump his drunk ass onto the sofa. Iruka dropped Yamato onto the sofa as his impersonation of a dead weight became too much for his arms. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato tugged Iruka by the hand until he fell on top of him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka flailed and scrambled out of Yamato’s lap, face burning with embarrassment. ‘W-what are you doing?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’re too high up Iruka,' grumbled Yamato, body pitching to the side. 'So I made you sit down.' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka shook his head, fondness overtaking the awkwardness he felt earlier. Though, his stomach still squirmed uncomfortably. He rose to his feet, intent on getting a glass of water for Yamato. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato's larger hand caught his arm, sending shivers through Iruka as he felt Yamato’s warm palm trail down his arm until he stopped at Iruka’s wrist. 'Where you goin'?'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Going to get you water, else you'll feel like hell tomorrow or do you not remember what happened the last time I drank too much?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Oh….' Yamato trailed off, looking to the side at something only he could see in his drunken haze. He let go of Iruka, hand dropping with a thump against the sofa cushions. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It didn't take long for Iruka to pour a glass of water from the kitchen, which he pressed insistently into Yamato's hand and guided it to his mouth when he swayed forward, clacking his teeth against the glass. In all the time they had known each other, Iruka had never seen Yamato drunk enough that basic motor functions became a problem. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'How much did you drink?' When it looked like Yamato was going to answer with a mouthful of water, he added firmly, 'finish drinking before you answer that.'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Not enough clearly,' mumbled Yamato after he had gulped down the whole glass of water. He fell backwards onto the sofa, eyes trained onto Iruka intently. 'Sai an' his harebrained scheme to drink my problems away. Shouldn'a listened to a university student… His plan to get over someone is to drink ya weight in alcohol… things are <em>great</em> the way they are.. have been for years…' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato slurred words got quieter as he slumped further in his seat. Iruka followed after his sliding body, trying to hear more and desperate to understand, because it sounded like Yamato had been drinking to get over his feelings for someone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'You have someone you like?'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The slithering feeling in his stomach got worse, like snakes tying itself into knots and kinks. The air felt thinner with every shallow breath Iruka pulled into his lungs. His heart thumped heavily in his chest, speeding up as his eyes met Yamato’s intense stare. The darkness of the living pressed in around them until all of Iruka's focus was on Yamato, cheeks a little darker from the flush of alcohol and lips parted slightly. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You have no idea, do you?’ whispered Yamato, looking more sober than he had been five minutes ago. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat, head spinning as if he was the drunk one as he tried to make sense of Yamato. 'What are you talking about?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato shook his head wildly from side to side, sadness sinking into his expression and he got up unsteadily onto his feet. He pushed away Iruka's hand when he tried to help. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'It's nothing.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was clearly not ‘nothing’ and it kept Iruka awake long after Yamato had gone to his room and Iruka back to his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling, Yamato's words played over and over again like a song on loop. They were friends and Iruka would go as far as saying they were best friends. Then how had he missed that Yamato liked someone? It made no sense. Other than work, they spent most of their time together. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka rubbed at the tightness in the middle of his chest. Yamato was entitled to his secrets. He rolled onto his side, punched his pillow into shape in frustration. But for some inexplicable reason it bothered him that he hadn’t known. Maybe it was someone at Yamato's work? Or a friend only Yamato knew? Or maybe someone only Iruka knew? His thoughts swirled like a chaotic whirlpool as he went through a list of the people they knew, latching onto their last conversation about dating and dredging up throw away comments Yamato had made about his colleagues for clues. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was so tired, but sleep eluded him and overactive mind ran raced with thought after thought. Thank the stars it was Saturday and he didn’t have to drag himself to work after a sleepless night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1"> <span class="s1">It was on the cusp of sleep, when the sky outside was on the edge of night and day, that realisation crept up on Iruka so silently and so surely that he no longer felt tired. Iruka sat up in bed, his mind alert and clear, and heart racing as the pieces fell into place. He pulled his legs up beneath the blankets and hugged them, resting his forehead on his covered knees. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The feeling of inevitability draped over him and Iruka released a long shuddering breath. It hadn’t surprised him at all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was no being struck by lightning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A freight train hadn’t hit him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Buckets of cold water hadn’t drenched him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Just the thought of Yamato in this new light sent a warmth of affection in his chest, enveloping him like a wave crashing upon the shore. Iruka bit his lip, a small smile growing shyly as every feeling he had ever felt for Yamato, every single action he had taken in the past made sense. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was deeply attracted to his roommate. No, it was more than that, running deeper than just simple attraction. Feeling brave and alive at finally putting a name to the feeling that accompanied every moment he spent with Yamato, Iruka smiled into his knees and allowed himself to admit that he had fallen hopelessly in love with Yamato. Everything that came before this moment felt like a prologue. Now he had to find a way to live with this new knowledge. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A thump and miserable, muffled groan came from the wall Iruka shared with Yamato. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There was still the fact that Yamato liked someone else. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Fuck.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With the realisation that every single look he had given Yamato in the past was more than just friendly and platonic, and more a ‘I want to smash my lips against yours’ only served to make Iruka more awkward than he already was. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato had mostly pretended nothing had happened. Or rather he had been drunk enough that he had no recollection of the weird conversation from that night. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Alright, what’s wrong? asked Yamato a week later, during one of their rare trips to the supermarket together. He stopped pushing the shopping trolley and stood in the middle of the aisle. ‘You’re acting weird.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m not acting any different,’ squeaked out Iruka, eyes going wide at being caught. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yes, you are. You’re fluttering about and haven’t looked me properly in the eye since last week.’ The dip between Yamato's brow was so deep that Iruka felt immediately guilty for causing him to worry. Yamato added more quietly, ‘you haven’t spoken more than a few words at a time to me. Did I do something wrong?' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘No! You haven’t done anything wrong,’ Iruka rushed to answer. ‘I’ve just been in a weird place lately. I’m just trying to sort it out, that’s all.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato’s face drained of all colour, going pale as his eyes widened. ‘Was it something I said when I was drunk?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘No, I mean, not really.’ Iruka placed his hand on Yamato’s arm when it looked like he wanted to bolt from the store. The vegetable aisle was really not the place he had thought they would have this conversation. ‘Hey, it's okay. I'm not weirded out by it. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato stared at Iruka, panic still present in his wide eyed gaze and in the flat line of his mouth, but his eyebrows rose with a little hope. ‘You're not?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka shrugged. He wasn’t and that was the truth, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing that Yamato liked someone when that someone wasn't him. Especially not after he had realised just how deeply he had fallen for Yamato. But he was Yamato’s friend, first and foremost. He would be supportive.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I understand why you kept it a secret. It sucks that you like someone and they don’t like you back.’ Iruka winced at the unintended truth in his words and tried to hide it by examining the carrots. ‘You're entitled to your secrets and I respect that.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a bag of carrots in hand, Iruka straightened and turned to Yamato. The colour had returned to Yamato’s face, but instead of seeing relief at not inadvertently revealing the person he liked as Iruka had expected, there was a disappointed frown to his brow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They shopped in silence. Yamato was pensive, lost in his thoughts as he pushed the trolley between the aisles, only nodding when Iruka suggested curry for dinner. Iruka gloomily glanced back and forth between Yamato and whatever he had picked up from the shelves, uncertain what had gone wrong. They exchanged barely more than a few words on the car ride back home. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Is the school dance next Friday?’ Yamato broke the silence as he stopped at the red light. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’re still coming?’ asked Iruka incredulously. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato shrugged, looking quickly at him before concentrating back on the road as the lights turned green. ‘Of course, you asked me. Unless you don’t want me to go?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I still want you to come,’ said Iruka quickly. Without thinking, he reached across and squeezed Yamato’s hand, which was holding onto the gearstick, hoping to convey the feelings he couldn’t find the words to describe. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">***</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The seniors’ summer dance was a success with minimal disruption. No one had started a fight (unlike Naruto and Sasuke had last year). No unwanted teen relationship drama had happened. There had been only one incident of someone spiking the punch, which had been promptly changed with a fresh, non-alcoholic batch. The only unwelcome part of the night were several dance requests from his students, which Iruka had politely declined. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At 8:59pm, Principal Tsunade had marched on the stage, grabbed the microphone and yelled that the dance was over, much to the groans and boos from the seniors. But the students still filed out of the converted school hall without further complaint. No doubt remembering the last time Principal Tsunade had lost her temper at the school’s board for revoking free school meals. The decision had been overturned, but by then the whole of Konoha had heard about how she had strung up Danzō Shimura with words alone. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka shivered at the memory as he waved goodbye to the stragglers.  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Goodnight, sensei,' said Hanabi Hyūga politely, holding tight to Moegi Kazamatsuri’s hand, whose face was bright red. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">'Have a safe trip home, you two.' Iruka smiled back. 'I'll see you at graduation.' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The hall emptied of students with only the teaching staff left. Iruka felt dead on his feet and was ready to call it a night. He turned to Yamato, who had gamely stayed the whole night with him, ready to head home when Tsunade marched back onto the stage and yelled into the microphone, 'Now let the party begin!'</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Enthusiastic cheers came from Iruka's colleagues as music from someone’s Spotify playlist blared through the speakers, the bass line thrumming into the air and Iruka bet it had been Genma who had jacked up the speakers. Kotetsu carried out the spiked punch and Izumo wheeled out new drinks and snacks to further cheers around the hall.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka surveyed his colleagues in disbelief as they drifted to dance or the drinks table. He was unsurprised that they had planned this, shocked that he had missed it. Gai was right, he really needed to check the teachers’ group chat more often. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You want to stay longer?’ Yamato stood beside him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Would it be okay?’ asked Iruka, conscious that Yamato had arrived straight from work and had already given up his Friday night for this. ‘You don’t have to stay. I’ll get a taxi home later.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’ll stay.’ A smirk appeared on Yamato's face alongside the glint in his eyes. ‘I might end up with blackmail material of Kakashi dancing.’ He paused and added in a smaller voice, a little unsure, but a lot hopeful that it made Iruka stop and look, ‘I may be convinced to dance, now that I’m not surrounded by teenagers at a cheesy high school prom.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka’s eyes widened. Was that an invitation? His heart raced at the suggestion and his palm sweated at the idea of actually being close enough to Yamato and at the possibility of being held in his arms. They hadn’t talked about what had happened since the supermarket. Iruka knew he had missed something important, but hadn’t found the words to ask and since then, their interactions had only got more stilted with none of the ease he was used to.  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Iruka!’ Mei's full figure barrelled into him, almost taking him off his feet. He placed his hand on her shoulders, putting space between them, only for her to grab his hand and dragged him away from Yamato despite his loud protests. ‘Come on, I love this song!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She took his hands and deliberately placed them on her hips, looped her arms around his neck, and pressed her body close to his. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Mei, what are you doing?’ hissed Iruka, pulling back a little. ‘I was having an important conversation with Yamato!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mei laughed and threw her head back dramatically. She leaned in close to his ear and said loud enough for him to hear over the music, ‘No, you were just staring at him with your jaw on the floor.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I was doing no such thing!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Just shut up and dance. I’m trying to help you here. Now look over your shoulder!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘What?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Just do what I say!’ Her annoyed tone at odds with her smiling face.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka was so confused, but he looked over his shoulder to see Yamato staring at them, a concerned frown on his face and looking awkward and out of place by the spiked punch bowl. He let go of Mei's hips, intent on going to Yamato. Mei’s arms tightened around his neck. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘This is an intervention,’ said Mei with a fake smile plastered on her lips. She physically twirled him around to the beat of the music. ‘I’m tired of you two looking lovesick at each other. Now dance!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m not lovesick and Yamato is definitely not lovesick for me!’ Iruka peeked around Mei’s head to see Yamato now in conversation with Gai, looking over at him and Mei as Gai gestured widely with his hands. His heart sped up at the tentative smile Yamato sent him before his attention was dragged back to Gai and whatever story required so much elaborate hand gestures. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turned back to Mei who wore a smirk, raised eyebrows in full force, an obvious ‘I told you so’ as Iruka had ever seen. ‘That was not a lovesick look. It’s just Yamato,’ he shrugged, the movement oddly in time with the bass, ‘being Yamato.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mei groaned loudly. ‘You’re both useless, you’re practically married and you have no idea!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka’s eyes bugged, but his spluttering response was drowned out by Ebisu's shout of ‘I love this song!' as another song he didn't know blasted through the speakers. Mei swept him up in a fast paced dance that involved lots of hip movement, awkward grinding, and arm waving that Iruka lost his protest to laughter. God, his students would never let him live this down if videos ever surfaced. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They danced and danced until Iruka’s feet were sore from wearing the nice dress shoes he found in the back of his wardrobe. He and Mei laughed as they hobbled over to the small table where Yamato was sitting. Mei’s arm was thrown over Iruka’s shoulder and he had his arm around her waist to support her wobbly legs, feet rubbed red from the high heels she wore. His sides hurt from laughing at Mei’s quirky jokes and oddly accurate impersonations of each of their colleagues. He was going to miss Mei when she had to go back to Kiri. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka lowered Mei into a chair and collapsed into the free chair in-between Yamato and her. He stretched out his tired legs, accidentally kicking the table leg and rocking the crepe paper flower arrangement on the middle of the table. He leaned back and caught his breath as Mei nudged off her heels with a wince. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You looked like you had fun,’ commented Yamato wryly as he passed a bottle of water to Iruka. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ Mei answered, draping her arm over Iruka’s shoulder, she reached over with an outstretched hand. ‘Iruka, please introduce me to your friend.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yamato, Mei. Mei, Yamato.’ Iruka shrugged his heavy shoulders when Yamato looked at him for help. He had long given up on finding reason in Mei's actions. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato grasped Mei’s fingers and shook them. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine,’ replied Mei, her voice low and so sultry that Iruka could feel the flirty head-to-toe gaze she was giving Yamato. ‘<em>But</em> as much as I would love to stay, I would only start to feel like a third wheel and no one wants to feel like that.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mei pressed a sloppy smooch on Iruka’s cheek before getting up. Her blue velvet dress hugged her body as she walked away, barefoot and hips moving with an extra swing that caught the eyes of everyone as she passed by. Iruka laughed at Mei’s dramatics. She should have gone into drama instead of geography. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka turned back to Yamato and a frown was back on his face. That frown was starting to make him nervous, but had the effect of making Yamato look even more tall, dark and handsome, and Iruka was going to hell for wanting to kiss that frown from his roommate’s forehead. The same roommate who thought of Iruka as just that, a roommate. Anything else was all in Iruka’s head. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘There’s some…’ Yamato tapped at his own face. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Oh!’ Iruka rubbed his cheek, smearing the bright red lipstick mark that Mei had imparted on him. Yamato’s hand on his wrist made him stop. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Here let me.’ Yamato wetted a napkin with water. Iruka held his breath as he felt Yamato’s fingers against his skin. Callused fingertips slid along his jawline down to his chin and tilted his head upwards. He shivered at the touch of the wet napkin against his hot face. The world around them faded into the background and all Iruka could do was focus on every subtle shift and change of Yamato’s expression as he gently dabbed and dabbed. He lifted the red stained napkin away. ‘There all done.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ‘thank you’ Iruka had wanted to say got stuck in his throat. His head swam at how close they were, connected by a slight touch of Yamato’s hand against his chin, and the barest press of their knees against each other’s. Yamato’s eyes were focused on Iruka’s lips and with every passing second, his gaze weighed heavily with so much more significance than Iruka was ready for.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yamato?’ whispered Iruka in a breathless exhale that broke the moment and Yamato jerked back suddenly, dropping his hand from Iruka’s face and the loud music came rushing back along with the jarring intrusion of reality. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Sorry, I’m…’ Yamato got up clumsily and cleared his throat, his face aflame with a blush that reached down to his neck. ‘I’m going to get a drink. You want a beer? Yeah, I’ll get a beer, maybe two or three. They have something stronger. Let’s have…’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka watched Yamato stumble away as he carried on talking to himself. When Yamato was far enough away, Iruka dropped his head against the table and released a long, loud groan into the white tablecloth. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You know what your problem is?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was the voice of Iruka’s night getting worse. Iruka shifted his head so that he was lying sideways on the table. ‘Go away Kakashi.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Ouch, I was expecting a nicer reception than that.’ Kakashi placed his hand over his chest as if Iruka’s words had wounded him. He plonked himself down on Yamato’s recently vacated chair and Iruka groaned again at the reminder of Yamato being in that chair and their almost kiss. ‘Okay, not the first time someone’s had that reaction either.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I said “go away” Kakashi. What part of that don’t you understand? Just leave me to wallow in my own thoughts.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Alright, grow a damn backbone and tell Yamato,’ said Kakashi bluntly as he rocked on the back legs of his chair. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You and Mei are terrible.’ Iruka glared up at Kakashi who only stared back at him impassively. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘And yet, you haven’t actively discouraged us, have you?’ Kakashi snarked back. ‘Just tell Yamato and put us all out of our misery. Us being Gai, Mei and just about every single person in this room.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’re missing one important and very crucial piece of information.’ Iruka sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. It pained him to have to say it out loud, but Kakashi and apparently, everyone else in his life clearly needed it spelt out. ‘Yamato doesn’t like me like that and I rather not make our friendship weird over my… feelings for him.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kakashi threw his arms into the arm and almost toppled over backwards. Once all four chair legs were firmly back on the ground, Kakashi leaned in close to Iruka. 'The both of you are a walking slow burn and mutual pining fic. It was painful the first few chapters and it's only getting more painful with no end in sight.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I don't even know what that means.' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> ‘You’re a smart guy, but I feel like you’re being deliberately obtuse. Actually, both you <em>and</em> Yamato are being deliberately obtuse.' </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka fumed at the insult, but thought back at how much he had wanted Yamato's hand to slide into his hair and how Yamato's gaze had been fixed firmly on his lips. All it took was for one of them to be brave enough to take that leap.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Look, I can't tell you what to do, but if you hurt Yamato, you're on my hit list,’ warned Kakashi, eye flashing dangerously before the corners of his right eye creased in the tell-tell sign of a smile. ‘In ANBU they used to call me “Cold-blooded Kakashi” for a reason.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka shook his head, but appreciated what Kakashi was doing. ‘What if he says “no”? I mean it, I can handle the rejection, but not losing my best friend.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘That’s the risk you take if you think it's worth it.’ A serious expression overtook Kakashi's face and he clapped a hand onto Iruka's shoulder. ‘Life’s too short to live in fear. If it’s love, it’s always worth it.’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat without talking as Iruka digested Kakashi's words. He was right. How would Iruka know if he didn’t at least try. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Is everything alright?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka turned to see Yamato holding two red cups full of spiked punch in his hands. That worried frown was becoming a permanent fixture and all Iruka wanted was to soothe it away. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Hey Tenzo, thanks for the drinks!’ Kakashi let go of Iruka’s shoulder as he got up. He took the cups from Yamato and he walked off to the dance floor. ‘I’m off to find myself a dance partner. Behave yourselves!’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Are you okay?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka's heart jolted at Yamato's question. Had he been okay since the first time he had seen Yamato and had heard the deep, mellowness of his voice? It had been his misfortune to be evicted from his crappy apartment three years ago. But it had led him to Yamato and the Saturday nights spent watching Netflix, after work drinks at their favourite <em>izakaya</em>, and shared lunch-making duties. Then there was the calendar stuck on the fridge with Yamato responsible for taking the rubbish out on Mondays and Iruka on Thursdays for the recyclables, the boxes of his favourite green tea that could only be bought from that one store near Yamato’s work, and always remembering to grab a few bags of walnuts for Yamato whenever Iruka was food shopping. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Since sending that text to a name and number on a friend’s promise of finding a room to rent, not a day had passed where Iruka did not cherish every single moment with Yamato that had followed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Was he okay? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Yeah, I’m okay,’ replied Iruka, and he meant it. He felt brave and calm, despite the racing beats of his heart at what he was going to do next. Iruka picked up one of the flowers from the table and stood up. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He faced Yamato whose expression was a mixture of worry and confusion. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘It’s not a yellow acacia like you asked.’ Iruka held out the red, crepe paper flower and took a deep breath. ‘Will you go to prom with me? Not as a friend, but as someone who I would love to take out on a date, do the dinner thing, and maybe if things go right, a kiss at the end of the night?’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka’s courage dimmed and he dropped his gaze to the floor. He jumped, eyes darting up at the touch of Yamato’s hand cradling his face. Iruka swallowed at the soft smile that played at the corners of Yamato’s lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘You’re so clueless,’ said Yamato affectionately, stepping closer until he rested his forehead against Iruka’s and his other hand came to rest on the back of Iruka’s neck.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The skin under Yamato’s hands tingled and Iruka swallowed thickly at the anticipation of it all. At the first touch of Yamato’s lips against his, Iruka melted into the embrace, hands winding around Yamato’s waist and bunching into his shirt. The paper flower crushed in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘Aren’t we doing things all backwards?’ whispered Iruka in between one kiss and another. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘We’ve been doing things backwards for years.’ Yamato broke the kiss and looked at Iruka with soft, warm eyes that filled Iruka with so much love and affection that his heart felt full to bursting. ‘Am I going to have to spell it out to you for you to understand?’</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’m a teacher,’ teased Iruka. ‘We love a well-reasoned answer with explanations supported by references to the original text.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato rolled his eyes and pressed another kiss to Iruka’s lips. ‘I love you, you dork. I have since you crashed into my life when you practically beat down my door.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It really hadn’t been far off the truth. ‘Yeah, you’re the smart one. I realised that I loved you two weeks ago.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yamato laughed and Iruka couldn’t help but laugh along with him. He really was clueless. It had only taken him three years to realise what he had. Just what had he done to deserve someone as patient as Yamato?</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Iruka stepped back and held Yamato’s hand tightly in his own. ‘Come on, I owe you a dance.’ </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
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